


happiness is a 10 step program.

by trickstered



Series: Soapstuck [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Affair, Recovery, Road Trips, Soapstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstered/pseuds/trickstered
Summary: It takes a while to be happy; you have to work for it, tooth and nail, and then you keep working for it.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Series: Soapstuck [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568794
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	happiness is a 10 step program.

**Author's Note:**

> what is soapstuck if not a series of drabbles posted out of order????? dedicated to [Raiden!](http://www.twitter.com/spaceraestuck)

The phone rings early. Somewhere just by six, the buzzing begins as a prelude to the dulcet tones of Snoop Dog. It rings for three beats before Dave reaches for it blindly and cancels the call, turning and rolling into the cooling, empty spot beside him. It takes a second for him to notice, stretching his arm out, hand patting the mattress. With one eye cracked open, he confirms it: Karkat has ditched him.

\--

It’s not always easy. Dave thinks about this on the road, with the radio turned the fuck up, the windows rolled down and Karkat sitting beside him, fast asleep with his face pressed against his own arm. He thinks about it in their fifth motel of the road trip, at the Denny’s where they get breakfast, and at the gas station where they pick up new toothbrushes and soap.

Maybe it never will be easy. There had been a dream, once, where they would run off together without any consequences. The reality is different. The reality is a boxing ring, with Dave in one corner and their old life in the next, dukes up, blood dripping down his face and sweat on his brow.

Karkat will be sitting watching TV in their hotel room, or he’ll order something to eat, or he will hear a phrase so innocuous that Dave might miss it, and then his eyes will drift off, his mind wandering somewhere else. One step, two step, backtracking out of Dave’s reach, into the murky depths of their past. It’s not easy to pull him back; it takes a touch of the hand, or his fingers in Karkat’s hair; it takes his softest voice, gentle coaxing and thinly veiled desperation. He fought so hard for him, and he’s still fighting, he realises.

Maybe he’ll always be fighting for him.

\--

He finds Karkat outside on the pointless first-floor balcony, staring absently down at the empty parking lot. There’s a mug in his hand, and one of the spare, itchy motel blankets is slung around his shoulders. It’s starting to heat up at night now, too, but Dave thinks he’s maybe just tired of being nagged about catching a cold. He sits beside him, quiet, and after a moment, Karkat wordlessly extends an arm, blanket opening. Dave slips in and closes Karkat’s hand against his shoulder. He’s quiet; thinks that he ought to be. 

Like he’s interrupted something not meant for him. Something personal.

But Karkat’s here. He’s present. His brows are furrowed, eyes focused. He sips his coffee, and after a long, drawn out moment, he squeezes Dave’s shoulder and some of his tension seems to release.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, at last. It’s not unusual; it’s just one of those things now. One of the consequences they live with. He opens his mouth, but the thought disappears back into the silence; swallowed whole by the stillness. 

Dave exhales, and places his head on Karkat’s shoulder. “Sorry the view kind of blows,” he says, and means it.

“We’ve had the same view for six weeks.”

“Yeah. Crazy how white people drive the same five cars.”

He hears Karkat make a sound that might be a laugh. It might be a wince. He thinks: at least it’s something. He’s quiet after it, with Dave’s head on his shoulder and the sun beginning to rise.

\--

They drive every two or three days. Dave likes the weird stops; states with Come See The World's Largest Corn Cob or Home Of The Flying Octopus Man. Karkat likes to see him light up over the strange and sometimes blatantly batshit nonsense the old mining towns have to offer. 

They buy a disposable camera and fill it up with pictures of them, side by side. Happy.

\--

It gets easier to be happy, the longer they stay on the road. Sitting over coffee, Dave will talk and talk and talk, and Karkat will remember that he used to love to talk, too. It gets easier to try and match Dave’s words per second. It gets easier to fall back in step with his humour, to pick up on things Dave might have picked up on, and begin the conversation himself.

Mostly, at night, it gets easier to stay in bed. It gets easier to roll back over, press his head to Dave’s back and whisper: “I love you.”

\--

“I think I want to change my name back to Vantas,” Karkat says, maybe into the twelfth week. Dave is driving, the windows are only half open. It’s hot as fuck, and Karkat has shed most of his layers into the back seat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. After I sell the house.”

Dave nods. He thinks about it. He thinks about a lot, usually, but this is a big step. It’s huge, comparatively to the rest of the shit they’ve done. So he nods, and reaches to squeeze Karkat’s thigh for a long second. “That’s cool.”

“You don’t mind?”

Dave shrugs. The name Strider is alien now. A toxic stain at the end of both their names, the very last dripdripdrip of poison that has been following them West. He turns his head, just for a fraction of a second, and thinks: it’s now or never. “Nah. I could get used to being Dave Vantas.”

Karkat nods, and then he freezes, and then the silence fills up the car so suddenly that Dave has to turn again, just to be sure he hasn’t crossed a line. He thinks Karkat looks moved, or devastated. Sometimes they look the same. His eyes have welled up, and for once he looks less tired than he usually does.

“If that’s cool,” Dave adds. To be sure.

“Yeah,” he says, breathless; quick. Dave feels his hand reach for his knee. He thinks he hears a sniff disguised as a cough. “Yeah. I could get used to that too.”

\--

It gets easier to be in love, after a while, and not feel bad about it.


End file.
